


Carver Edlund is a Son of a Bitch

by BaredWolf



Series: First Kiss Fics [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaredWolf/pseuds/BaredWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie called Cas "dreamy", and Dean's not entirely sure how Chuck's books gave her that impression. So he does some reading to figure it out himself. </p>
<p>Spoiler alert: Charlie was right. </p>
<p>M for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carver Edlund is a Son of a Bitch

He really shouldn’t be doing this. Dean Winchester was way too smart to even be considering doing this.

He was totally doing this.

After Charlie mentioned that the rest of Chuck’s books were available online, he knew he’d end up doing this. The poorly written and at times selectively edited version of his life had been bad enough when he read the first round of books. But apparently Chuck had kept writing right up until they stopped the apocalypse. Which meant there were books Dean hadn’t read. Books with Cas in them.

He’d done his damnedest to keep a straight face when Charlie called Cas “dreamy”; it wasn’t a word he would have used (ever), but the way she said it raised a few questions. Questions he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge might be the right questions. So he needed to read these for himself, see if Charlie was just being Charlie or if there was some kind of vibe she was picking up on. A made up vibe, of course, materializing in the overwritten mangle of Chuck’s style.

He was pretty sure there was probably nothing.

Still, he had taken his laptop to his room to read in peace, so that Sam wouldn’t catch wind of what he was doing. If anything, he’d just assume Dean was clogging up the computer with viruses from sketchy porn sites again (as if he hadn’t figured out how to avoid that, please, wasn’t it 2013 or something now?). He’d skimmed through a lot of the books, not feeling the need to re-live any of the experiences they detailed. He wondered what Charlie thought when she read these scenes. It made him uncomfortable, like standing naked on stage in a crowded theater. At least most of the people who read the stories didn’t know they were true, didn’t know Dean at all. Charlie though, she was on the short list of people whose opinions mattered.

He skipped the books that didn’t include Cas for now. Cas’s grand entrance in the barn was badass, but reality had been badass-er. Badassier. More badass. Chuck’s writing was starting to affect his brain. He started skipping every scene that didn’t include Cas directly; this made the reading go faster but unfortunately threw certain patterns into stark relief.

A dozen or so books in and he was pretty sure Charlie hadn’t been pulling things from thin air. Chuck, the fucker, had written the scenes with overblown descriptions of Cas gazing longingly at Dean, descriptions that made it sound like Dean was constantly ogling Cas (the paragraphs about his eyes, was Chuck fucking serious? No wonder they stopped publishing this shit). But Cas’s loyalty stood out. And it was easy for Dean to forget, the way Cas had hurt him more recently, about all of the utterly insane things Cas had done for him in the past. The way Chuck told it, Cas really did only want to do right by Dean, he just wasn’t that good at it. Kept making critical mistakes that undermined his intentions.

He was gaining some perspective on things.

Maybe it was the fifteenth paragraph dedicated to Cas’s eyes that had him word-doped up enough to start agreeing with Charlie. Cas was kinda dreamy. It wasn’t as if he had been unaware that Cas was good looking, objectively speaking. But there’s a difference between finding someone objectively attractive, and being attracted to them, right? Right. And Dean knew the difference. And Dean had been convinced that Cas was in the first category. Had been. Now, he wasn’t so sure about that.

He  _was_  pretty sure he was fucked.

*****

He was right, he was totally fucked.

When Cas showed up again, fragile and human and the grumpiest grumpy person Dean had ever encountered, Dean couldn’t stop the thoughts that raced through his mind. Thoughts that had been haunting his dreams (could he pretend they were nightmares? Could he pretend it wasn’t something he wanted in his waking hours too?). Thoughts that he (mostly, kind of) hadn’t had before Chuck planted them in his head. Probably. He wondered if there was some kind of mojo left in the words that was making him think about Cas like this. He wondered if he had any excuse at all.

He became aware of just how much he stared at Cas. Of how his eyes roamed far too freely. Of how Cas stared right back. Of the heat simmering just below the surface between them. Of just exactly how attracted to Cas he was.

He became aware that Cas could tell he was aware.

And maybe that was what he had been waiting for. Because Dean was convinced, now, that Cas had felt this way for a long time. Maybe not exactly this way, because he was not human before, but he realized that Cas hadn’t acted because he thought Dean did not share his feelings.

He was wrong.

Maybe Dean should not have been surprised when Cas finally cornered him one evening, while he was searching the shelves of the library. He had kind of been ignoring the guy. Which wasn’t fair, but Dean wasn’t particularly great at handling things healthily most of the time, and was even worse when those things mattered. There were far too many opportunities for this to go sideways, and he was so scared of fucking it up that he couldn’t bring himself to even begin.

“Cas, I…”

“Be quiet.”

Dean didn’t realize he had been slowly backing away until his back hit the wall. He stopped, more out of necessity than choice. Cas stepped closer, definitely in his personal space now. Dean opened his mouth to speak again and Cas shook his head. For some reason, Dean listened and did not speak. Cas held his gaze a moment longer, then leaned in and placed a feather-light kiss against Dean’s cheek. Whatever Dean had been expecting, it hadn’t been this lingering, gentle touch that Cas offered. He gripped Cas’s upper arms, too stunned to move. His heart hammered a hopeful, terrified tattoo. Cas kissed him again, this time at the corner of his mouth, still soft. Cas wasn’t hesitating, not really, more like taking his time and savoring the moment.

“Dean,” he said, and it was a question and a request and a promise and a declaration.  _Can I? Please let me, I’m yours, I need you too_.

A tiny turn of his head. That was all it would take, to feel Cas’s lips against his (finally), to answer the question and grant the request and make his own promise and declaration. A tiny movement, and it took all of his courage to make it. Because this was big. Huge. Bigger than anything else in his life had ever been, this decision right here, and Dean Winchester had helped save the world on multiple occasions. He was nothing if not brave, brave to the point of foolhardiness. So he turned his head, that tiny shift, and pressed his lips to Cas’s.

He felt like he could go on doing this forever, kissing Cas. He was warm, pressed up against him, hands roaming with unabashed curiosity. Dean had a hand wrapped around the back of Cas’s neck, fingers brushing through the ends of his hair, the other hand gently gripping his waist. They kissed gently, without urgency. It was the sappiest thing, but all he wanted to do was keep doing exactly this. He heard a thunk from the other side of the library and wrenched his mouth from Cas’s just in time to witness Sam’s fast retreating back. He realized with a start where Cas had pinned him. Sam had apparently walked into a table when he saw them.

He was never going to live this down with his brother. So he shrugged, and kissed Cas again.


End file.
